“Salvatore and his father were talking. I’m not sure if Dominic was there or not, but I heard his father say something about taking care of Luke.”

She didn’t seem surprised by what I said.

“They know you’re trying to stir things up, Izzy. You have to be careful.”

“That’s Luke. Not me.”

“Well, then you need to tell him to be careful. What’s going on with you and him, anyway? I saw how he looked at you at the church, and he was here the other day. Are you two having an affair?”

“An affair. It sounds so illicit.” She picked up her teacup and dumped its contents into the sink. “You’re caught up on this affair thing today, aren’t you?” she asked, her back to me.

“Is he Effie’s father, Izzy? Is that why Papa—”

She snorted and looked off to the side. “Luke is not Effie’s father.”

“Who is?”

She turned and met my gaze, her expression cooler. “It’s not important. What is important is figuring out what we’re going to do to keep you away from Salvatore.”

Isabella’s cell phone rang, and she eyed the display. “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

She walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, surprising me with her sudden secrecy.

“This isn’t a good time,” I heard her whisper. Then I heard my name before she hung up and returned to the kitchen.

“Who was that?”

“The mom who took Effie swimming.”

“Oh. You could have talked to her.”

“It’s fine. She was just checking in. Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.”

“No, I’m good. I think I’ll go lay down if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, go ahead.”

I stood, feeling this space between us, something strange that hadn’t been there before. But then she walked over to me and hugged me.

“You’ll be okay, sis. I won’t let him hurt you. I’ll take care of everything.”

An unease settled over me as I made my way up to my old bedroom. Something in her tone or posture was off…wrong. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, though. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was the five years between us. She’d changed too, just like all of us. She’d grown a little harder. But maybe that was what she’d needed to do to survive.

After a short rest and a microwave dinner later in the evening, I’d gotten ready and gone to sleep in my old bedroom, the sinking feeling never leaving my stomach. It wasn’t too much later when I woke to rain beating against the window and voices arguing. I sat up and glanced at the time on my phone. It was a little after midnight. The display showed eight missed calls, all from—surprise, surprise—Salvatore.